


Nothing Like Your Dad (fic)

by ARTofOTK



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual, References to Drugs, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARTofOTK/pseuds/ARTofOTK
Summary: Gil finds out that Malcolm used Chloroform on himself and decides he better step it up as a father figure! Alternate events for S1E4: "Designer Complicity" - between the case being closed and Malcolm watching his mother's interview tape. Some dialogue taken directly from the script.(If you don't enjoy M/M parental-style discipline stories, then I wouldn't suggest reading this.)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in response to a prompt I claimed from LJ's Spanking World community. The prompt was actually meant to contribute to a Christmas "Spankvent" series of posts, but my writing got away from me this weekend... so now here's a chapter that I'm eager to prematurely share! I'll contribute other stories/drawings in December still! ;)
> 
> Well I'm glad to know a couple fellow spankos who are enjoying this new show, and I'm excited to see what else will be contributed to the fandom. I know I have a ton of other fics on the go, and I'm so sorry to make people wait! I promise to finish my Lucifer, Marvel, and X-Files fics... but right now Prodigal Son is just way too inspiring! The main character seems to really be asking for a spanking in every episode, haha... XD Well, depending on what more we find out about Gil and his past, I may have to edit some details... Despite how little we know about him, I was able to have fun writing from his perspective. Maybe the next chapter will be from Malcolm's, though!
> 
> Would love any thoughts! I'm curious to know if many more readers are fans of this show!

(Gil's POV)

I looked around and tried not to worry too much about the amount of weaponry displayed on Malcolm's walls. There were worse things to collect. Having investigated as many serial killers as I had, I should know! Still, why couldn't he be more like other Millenials and decorate his place with those glass bauble thingies with weird plants in them, or paintings of avocados? For someone who had chosen the name "Bright" for himself, his style seemed pretty dark... Well, at least he had a pet bird.

"Love what you've done with the place," I lied, "Very... cozy." Malcolm just offered me a glass of whisky in reply, which I gratefully accepted. While he played bartender I updated him on the case we just closed. 

"DA called. They're pressing charges against both Joey and Axel... You were right. Axel helped orchestrate a cover-up for his old friend."

Malcolm turned to me with two glasses of whisky, along with a pleased look at the news, then said, "But... you didn't come here to tell me something I could have read in the report."

"Right again."

Smart kid. Too smart for his own good sometimes. I admired his skill, was _proud_ of it even, but he had learn to toe the line between impressing people and just coming across as an annoying brat. Knowing him as well as I did and for as long as I had made it rare for me to get truly pissed off, though. Maybe due to my lingering pity, plus the fondness I had for this young man I watched grow up. Neither emotion would be something I'd openly admit to... Anyway, most people didn't understand him like I did _or_ have my patience, so he had to be more careful!

I thought his firing from the FBI would've taught him to hold his tongue, but - judging from his interactions with others during our recent cases - I didn't think he learned a thing! It disappointed me. Worried me.

 _Tell him what you're thinking, Gil..._ said a voice in my head that sounded like Jackie. She had sometimes urged me to be more strict with Malcolm, said I should be a better father figure. But I never had the heart to be too hard on him, even when he misbehaved. Jessica had been ridiculously busy as a single mother and my wife and I took to babysitting little Malcolm and Ainsley here and there. With Jessica's permission, of course. It was fun. We didn't have any children of our own and we found we liked the noise.

Sometimes the siblings (individually or apart, depending on their extracurriculars) hung out at our little apartment where I let them watch any cartoons they wanted and eat sugary cereal - or we'd take them out to cheap restaurants and parks. Malcolm often had his father on his mind, I could tell. He'd get too quiet sometimes, or act out, and it sort of became a mission of mine to distract him, to make him laugh or just smile. I guess I acted more like the cool uncle.

I shook the memories away and returned my attention to Malcolm in the present. I accepted my drink and then teased, "So, why don't you tell me why I'm here, Sherlock Freud?" That made him smile a little. Yep, _cool uncle..._ Jackie sighed in my head. _  
_

We headed over to sit on the leather sectional with our drinks and Malcolm answered, "Well... you know I've been off my game, you know I've been seeing my father, and you know about my mother's new role in my nightmares."

He didn't seem very sorry about it but I had to give him credit for at least admitting that he'd been causing trouble for the team. And I was satisfied that he could acknowledge what was concerning me.

"Damn, you _are_ a good profiler... Guess I can't fire you." This earned a hurt look from Malcolm. Damn puppy eyes. 

"You want to?" He sounded about eleven again, voice light and unsure. I wanted to comfort him, tell him - _of course not, never_ \- but I decided to be more honest.

"Not usually, no. Lately, though - "

Then Malcolm interrupted and I expected him to spew out an apology. Instead, he whined, "I need to know the truth, Gil. If my mother... If she knew... I _have_ to see that tape!"

I shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly his thoughts had flown elsewhere - to his tragic and blurry past. It seemed to be happening more and more, probably a result of all the dreams he'd been having. The nightmares. I wondered how he could believe what he saw in his sleep over my own account of that night. I was positive that Jessica had not known about the murders before her ex-husband's arrest. She could seem severe with her son and daughter, but she loved them more than anything! She would _not_ have let them live with a murderer for the sake of an ideal family image... but Malcolm was actually leaning toward that theory! 

Was this all an effect of him seeing The Surgeon? Was this my fault? Jessica was right when she accused me of _sending him back into the arms of that monster..._ Even though I hadn't ordered the visit, I knew that Malcolm would've been tempted to speak to his father in order to help solve our case. And then I certainly didn't do much to prevent it. I had to fix this somehow, and steer him right.

An idea came to me, a change to the plan I had when I decided to come here. Unbeknownst to Malcolm, the tape he wanted was in my coat. I'd been about to just drop it off and leave, but now...

"Listen, I'll give you two options. I can either let you keep your job _or_ I can give you your mom's interview tape."

Malcolm's eyes grew huge. I'd call them childlike if it weren't for the dark bags under them. He really needed a good sleep.

"Wait, so you have it?"

I looked away and sipped at my drink, not wanting him to be able to study my expression for an answer. He set his glass down _hard_ on the coffee table and huffed out, "If you have it, just give it to me!" I looked back with an eyebrow raised at his tone, and he quickly amended with a subdued and earnest sounding " _Please_."

I replied with a sigh, "So you'd choose that over the job I gave you?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. " _Seriously_ , Gil? Come _on_ , that's not fair!"

This immature attitude was beginning to rile me up. I put my glass down beside his - carefully, calmly, as opposed to how he had - then stood up and put my hands on my hips. I looked down at him and spoke sternly, "You wanna talk about what's not fair? Well, kid, you summing up the way you've been acting as just being _off your game?_ (I made quotation marks with my fingers) I'd say that's near the top of the list."

A hint of shame crossed Malcolm's features. _Good._

He said, "I'll do better," then looked down and bit his lip. Seemed like he didn't know what else to say so I kept talking.

"I took a risk when I let you into the NYPD. You've done a lot of good but you've made mistakes... and you've been making them more and more. Losing your cool at all the wrong moments. I wish I could say otherwise, but I feel like I'd be taking an even bigger risk by keeping you at this point, especially with how much you've been allowing your past to distract you. I need you to to be able to focus on learning from me and the rest of the team. Unless you get your priorities straight, I think you're likely to get _worse_ \- not better."

With his chin still tucked low, Malcolm glanced up at me through his eyelashes before looking down again. It hurt seeing the sadness in his young but weary face. I quickly went on to say, "But you know what, kid? Keeping you is a risk I'm willing to take... 'cause I trust you! I trust you to do your best to help people, to use your brilliant mind and good heart to solve cases and save lives... but trust has to go both ways! You gotta trust me to help you too, okay?" 

After a moment, Malcolm offered a tiny nod. I stepped close and bent down to put my hands on his shoulders, waited for him to make eye contact with me before saying, "Believe me, please. There's nothing on this tape that'll convince you that what you dreamed was the truth. Like I told you before, your mom... she _didn't_ know about the murders!"

Malcolm shut his eyes and hung his head. I squeezed his shoulders a little, encouraging a reply. He took a deep breath while I held mine, then finally said, "Please don't fire me, Gil. I... I choose the job."

I was beyond relieved and didn't bother hiding it. "Thank you, Bright. I'm very glad to hear that... So, you believe me?"

His shoulders sagged. "I _want_ to, Gil! I know you're telling me what you _think_ you know is true, but my mother could be hiding things from both of us - from _everyone!_ It's possible she was able to fool you during her interrogation, isn't it? But I... I don't want you to give me the tape, okay? Not if it means I can't be your consultant. I've said this to you before - this job, I _need_ it!"

I sighed, accepting that I wouldn't be able to change his mind, but maybe he just had to mull things over when he was better rested. And since we wouldn't be taking on a new case for a couple days, he might get a clearer head and hopefully start to think more rationally. I would call him around noon tomorrow, maybe meet for lunch. If he was still this paranoid and agitated about his mom, then I'd give him the tape. I worried about him having to revisit that night so vividly this way, but it would be better to keep his imagination from running even more wild.

"I promise I won't fire you. I'll be happy to keep bossing you around." He smiled up at me and I patted his hair. "I should let you get some sleep now. Thanks for the drink."

"Aw, Gil! It's too early!" This time the whining was sort of cute.

"Want me to make it an order?" I warned, half-jokingly.

Malcolm laughed. "Nah, no need. I actually _am_ pretty tired. So, fine. I'll go wash up and change now - unless you need me to see you out?"

I shook my head. "I'll manage. Have a good night, kid."

When I headed to the door I caught a mumbled reply that was probably not meant to be heard. I made it out as "doubt it" and turned around, but Malcolm had already shut himself into his bathroom.

It didn't feel right to leave now, even though I didn't know what I could do to help him sleep better. I could fight criminals, but not nightmares. I looked around to his bed which was visible in this open concept space, and I went to check it out more closely, curious. Dani had told me about the cuffs Malcolm put on to deal with his night terrors. Just as she described, they made the bed look like something out of a BDSM scene. Too bad Malcolm wasn't using them for fun. I couldn't help the thought that I'd have been more comfortable finding out he had a kinky sex life - versus what he was actually dealing with at night. God. Poor kid.

I'm not sure how long I stood there looking down at the long chains, imagining him pulling at them in terror like a shackled prisoner undergoing torture... Long enough for Malcolm to finish up in the bathroom. He had hit a switch to shut off most of the lights and we startled each other in the dimness. 

"You - you're still here! Why?" Malcolm's hair was a mess for once. He probably hadn't bothered combing it after changing. He looked like a damn teenager, donning grey sweats and a white tee, his feet bare. It didn't help that he was several inches shorter than me. His tailored outfits did make him seem taller. 

"Oh, well..." I floundered for an explanation and came up with, "Dani told me you had trouble with, uh... your sleeping arrangement... that night, after she took you home at my request. I remembered and thought I'd help this time."

Malcolm's cheeks got a little pink. "She told you about that?" He gave an embarrassed laugh and added, "It's pretty weird, huh? But it does help keep me from causing damage... most of the time."

"That's good, then." (It wasn't good at all) "I'm just sorry your night terrors have gotten so bad." (I was more than sorry... I was horrified.) "Let me help you get your cuffs on."

Malcolm blushed red now. He waved his hands in front of his chest and said, "No, please, I can normally do it myself. Look, I'll show you!" Then he climbed under his covers and demonstrated how the two chains had just enough slack to allow him to restrain himself, one wrist at a time. I could see how he wouldn't be able to free himself unless he were conscious of them. After both cuffs were on he actually gave me _jazz hands_ and exclaimed, "Voila!" - then, after a pause - "Oh _shit_ , I forgot my guard!"

"Your what?" Did he hire a... 

"My mouth guard. I wear it to sleep so I don't grind my teeth down or bite my tongue, when... you know..." He wouldn't look me in the eye and my heart gave a pang. The kid didn't deserve to live like this.

"Where is it? I'll get it for you."

"Uh, my nightstand, top drawer. Thanks, Gil... You'd be saving me some hassle."

"No problem," I said, and crouched down in front of the nightstand by the head of his bed. I opened the top drawer and immediately spotted the small plastic case that looked suited for a mouth guard, but then a bottle of liquid caught my eye - or, more specifically, what it said on its label.

CHLOROFORM

I grabbed the bottle, wanting a closer look and hoping to God I read it wrong... I hadn't. My hand shook as I presented it to Malcolm.

"Oh man! I forgot I had that in there!"

I remained speechless, not knowing what to think let alone what to say!

"Woah, woah - don't look so worried, Gil! I just used that on myself, okay? I don't have anyone held captive." Malcolm had the gall to laugh! This wasn't funny at all!

You're holding _yourself_ captive, I wanted to say... and I wasn't thinking of his cuffed hands. His _mind_ had to be stuck in some kind of delusional, twisted thought process because why the hell -

Wait. I wanted to say this part out loud. And loudly.

"WHY THE _HELL_ WOULD YOU USE _CHLOROFORM_ ON YOURSELF!?"

I didn't let myself feel bad for the look of fright my shouting sparked on Malcolm's face.

"Gil, calm down! I can explain! A... um, a memory came to me..."

Not this again... "A _dream_ , you mean?"

"My father drugged me, used Chloroform on me after I saw the girl in the box. He must've wanted to stop me from calling for help by making me forget. Doctor Brown, she... well, I discussed this with her and she suggested that the familiarity of the scent might help me remember more, trigger other details. It made sense to me, so I just had to try! And - and it _worked_ , Gil! That's when I saw my mother!"

 _"Bright!"_ I growled _, "_ Are you talking about the dream you had of her catching you finding the box? You didn't tell me your sleep that night was drug-induced!" I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a mighty headache coming on, and I stopped myself from asking Malcolm if he knew how dangerous Chloroform was. It would be a waste of breath because he was too smart to have been unaware of the dangerous - potentially _fatal_ \- consequences! That made this all so much worse... "Oh God, kid. You need a good smack upside the head."

Malcolm gave an odd snort and replied, "Well, you'll be pleased to know that my mother delivered exactly that."

_What?_

"Your mom hit you? Your head?" I quickly leaned over to brush Malcolm's hair back, checking his temples and trying to make out any bruising on his scalp.

He looked uncomfortable and told me, "I'm fine! She didn't box me!" then he explained, "She came over the other night and we had a pretty bad argument. I... I decided to ask her directly if she had known about my father's murders before his arrest. And she - well, she was a little drunk, judging by her breath. She slapped me on the cheek, that's all. Only stung for a few minutes." 

I sighed and put a hand on his left cheek, as gentle as I could in case it was the side that had been hit. Probably, since Jessica was right-handed. I couldn't imagine ever slapping him in the face. "Your mom shouldn't have hit you like that."

"I'm _fine_ ," He repeated.

He wasn't.

The urge to make Malcolm smile took precedence over the lecture I had stewing, and I decided to share a funny thought that had briefly come to mind.

"Maybe she should've put you over her knee and spanked your butt instead."

I got a toothy grin and a giggle. Bonus points.

"Oh, geez, Gil! I can imagine that pretty easily! Which is weird, actually... since she doesn't believe in corporal punishment. She never hit me when I was a kid, anyway. Neither did my father."

"You've never been spanked?" He shook his head and I was honestly surprised. I understood if Jessica had decided not to punish her son in certain ways after the trauma they endured, but he was eleven then. I earned most of my spankings before ten!

I knew physically disciplining children was widely discouraged now, and I was fully in support of that. Kids these days had so many possessions that could be taken away as punishment instead. But Malcolm was a nineties kid! I couldn't help but think that his absence of butt whoopings explained _a lot!_ His poor impulse control, for one _._ My dad had cured me of that early on with just a couple good doses of his belt... and I thanked him for that now. 

I decided not to bother telling Malcolm he should've been spanked more when he was younger. His childhood wasn't one to be envied and I didn't want to imply that he'd been spoiled. I turned my focus to deciding what I could do now, as his boss and friend, to keep him from trouble. First thing would definitely be getting rid of the Chloroform. I stood up, knees cracking, and put the bottle in my coat's inner pocket. Edrisa would know how to dispose of it properly.

"Hey, you can't take that! It's mine!" Malcolm yelled from where he lay, head rising from his pillow.

I crossed my arms and said, "Don't tell me you were thinking of using it again... That would be stupid! And _you_ , my friend, are not stupid..."

Malcolm pouted at me, glaring now. I glared back. After a few seconds he dropped his head back down onto his pillow and turned his face away to look out the large round window.

"Tell me you weren't gonna use it again, kid."

He ignored me and shut his eyes. I sighed and just looked over his thin figure. The soft glow from the city lights highlighted his pale face and, with his arms spread like that, he almost looked like a modern version of Christ on the cross... suffering for the sins of others. Well, I would _not_ let him wind up sacrificing himself. He had to stop needlessly putting himself in danger. I took a breath, ready to talk at him all night, but then he turned to face me again, scowling.

"Go away, Gil. I can't stand another lecture. You... you're not my father! Quit acting like it!"

I tried not to sound as hurt as I felt when I replied, "Oh, I hope to God I'm nothing like your dad!"

"Then just FUCK OFF!"

I was taken aback. Malcolm had never swore at me before. In fact, I rarely heard him swear at anyone. I supposed that could be due to him being brought up with an upper class vocabulary. His mom probably encouraged him to use full sentences in an argument.

"You think it's okay to mouth off at your boss?"

Then he turned to look at me again, looking strangely pleased, "Well you can't fire me now, can you? We had a deal! You promised me I could keep my job, remember? As long as I didn't ask for the tape. So, unless you give that to me now, I guess I can mouth off at you all I want... _Sir."_

The kid was using my ultimatum against me. And the gall of him, calling me Sir like that! I had neverfelt so pissed off at him... A ridiculous idea began to form in my head. I had been joking about it before, but now...

I unbuttoned my coat, shrugged it off and threw it over the foot-board. My holster belt and gun followed. Then I began rolling up the sleeves of my shirt, not quite believing what I was planning to do, but the urge grew and grew and I let myself act on it. I let my impulse control take a back seat for once.

"Huh? What... what are you doing, Gil?" The nervousness in Malcolm's voice was welcome. I hadn't liked the smugness in his voice before.

"Well, since I can't fire you, I better figure out another way to punish you, eh? Maybe I'll hit two birds with one stone... I can teach you a lesson _and_ show you how different I am from your horrible excuse for a father." What an understatement. I refrained from saying the word at work but The Surgeon was plain "evil" in my books. I don't know what I was thinking when I practically delivered his son back to him after so many years! I had to step it up as Malcolm's friend, his boss... his father figure! And that would start _now._

I grabbed a hold of Malcolm's blanket and yanked it away to bunch up past his knees, then I knelt down on the edge of the mattress and reached out to grab his bony left hip. "Your father didn't believe in corporal punishment, right? But I might."

I had never spanked anyone before, but being on the receiving end seemed like enough experience to go on. I rolled Malcolm on his side, exposing his back to me, and then I raised my left hand...

Malcolm wriggled and shouted dramatically, "Gil, no! Just NO! Oh - oh my God!" He knew where this was going and I didn't make him wait. I slapped him hard on the seat of his sweats, deciding I wouldn't go soft on him. I'd been too lenient before and he needed to smarten up, fast.

The strike sounded muffled but it made Malcolm gasp. 

I slapped him again, just as hard.

"Ow! St-stop it, Gil!"

He kicked the blanket off his legs before trying to kick me. When that failed, he tried to twist onto his back but I was able to hold him in place with little effort. I delivered four more solid slaps, alternating cheeks, before seeing Malcolm reach to undo his right cuff with his left hand. I caught him just in time and wrapped my hands around his waist. With a single heave, I dragged his whole body down about a foot, toward the end of his bed. This tightened the chains just enough to keep his hands apart.

Malcolm was on his back again and took advantage. He spread his legs wide and tensed his whole body to make it difficult for me to get him on his side again. I gave him a stern look and he opened his mouth. Once again, I expected to hear an apology. And again, I was wrong.

"You're crazy, Gil! You can't seriously think that this is okay, 'cause it's _not!_ Don't hit me any more! You... you're _hurting_ me!"

I wagged a finger at him. "Not as much as you're hurting yourself! You think it's okay to experiment with drugs like that? Well, then I don't see why I can't try out some experimental discipline on you. At least a spanking can't _kill_ you!"

Malcolm hollered without dignity when I reached for him again, and I decided not to provide him with any dignity on my part, either... With some inventive moves, I gathered his legs together like two logs and lifted them up into the air - like he was a baby about to have his diaper changed.

This got Malcolm sputtering, "Gil, _Gil..._ this is... it's - ", then he just squeaked when I bent him in half with my right arm across the backs of his legs, against his calves. His knees pressed down over his chest, butt becoming a perfect target.

Malcolm began a panicked mantra of, "No... no, no, no..." and I listened carefully, determining that he wasn't having any trouble breathing due to the position. Good thing he was limber. He did mention doing yoga.

I took a moment to study Malcolm's face as well, red from anger and embarrassment, and I suddenly felt a little guilty. I wondered if I'd already gotten my point across, if maybe this had been enough. I asked, "Is there anything you want to say to me, kid?"

The response I got was remorseless - "How 'bout let me the hell go!" - and it hardened me to want to carry out a drawn-out lesson, one he wouldn't forget...

So I told him, "No, not for a while."

Malcolm groaned in frustration and then gasped when he saw my left hand rise into the air. "Gil, you can't..." but I could and I would. I had determined this to be the best course of action... however silly it sounded, to spank a grown man for his behaviour!

"This is happening. Your only option now is to accept this punishment... and _learn_ from it."

My hand flew.

~ TBC ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've switched over to Malcolm's POV and had some sadistic fun writing out his reactions to Gil spanking him. A LOT of embarrassment ensues in this chapter and I hope it's enjoyed! Please let me know what you liked reading, or hope to see later! ;) Sorry for the long waits in between my chapters - for all my stories, lol, not just this one! I'm trying to make more time to draw than write these days, but I managed to gradually pull this part together on my phone during transits to and from work, go me!

I had to be dreaming! This was just some ridiculous nightmare... or hallucination? I was pretty sure I took my pills, though. Whatever, no _way_ was Gil smacking my butt like I was some naughty kid! Something so humiliating could not actually be happening to me... I'd wake up, any time now!

But the surreal scene continued to play out, and with nothing else to indicate that this was all just in my head. The pain felt _very_ real and, as Gil continued to bring down his palm in an unwavering pace, I knew I couldn't be imagining the worsening sting across my butt.

So I was faced with the horrible reality of the situation... I was a thirty year old man on the receiving end of a _spanking!_

It wasn't the sexy kind that I might like with a playful partner - uh, nope! Nuh-uh! NOT the case here! This was _Gil!_ And he was acting like a pissed off parent from the fifties or something. I hated feeling so helplessly trapped, unable to undo my own bed restraints or break the other man's hold on my legs. I was like an upturned beetle, stuck on its back, legs twitching in the air... but, unlike an insect, I had vocal cords! And I sure made use of them, yelling out objections between wordlessly screaming at the top of my lungs, not caring how pathetic I sounded. I just hoped the loudness would deter Gil from keeping up with this nonsense - this _abuse!_

My voice reached a crackly high pitch and I caught Gil wincing. He'd been hitting me for at least a couple minutes but he paused now and looked over at me with a hint of concern. I inwardly claimed victory... but not inwardly enough, I suppose. He seemed to catch something in my expression that made him shoot me a sour look before returning his attention to my rear, and he went back to spanking me, faster than before. He began aiming lower on my butt - well _higher,_ technically, considering my position. Anyway, the skin near my thighs was so much more sensitive! I rattled my restraints and took a deep breath before shrieking some more.

"No-no-OW! AHHH!!! Gil, STOP it, STAHHHP!!!" Damn, my throat was starting to get sore...

"Why stop now?" Gil feigned a curious tone as his hand moved back to target the fuller part of my butt, cracking down against one cheek three times before doing the same to the other. He kept on with this awful pattern and added, "I might be treated to some opera next, with the way you're over-reacting."

 _Over-reacting?_ I lifted my head as much as I could from my pillow, trying to see around my legs to his face, and I replied angrily, "What do you _expect_ me to do? Just lie still and take this!?"

Gil paused again, letting my legs down a few inches, though my butt remained too vulnerable for comfort. "Like I said already - accept this punishment, learn from it. You can't scream your way out of this, kid, though that might be thanks to your thick walls. If we were in my apartment then my neighbours would've called the cops by now, thinking an attack was going on." Gil chuckled and I seethed.

"This _is_ an attack! You're beating me!"

"Nope, I'm spanking you. It's a _lesson._ I'll make sure you understand that by the time we're through. Since that may be pretty far from now, I suggest you save your breath - and your throat - for when your tolerance truly gets pushed. We're still just warming up here."

I raised my brows, mouth agape. Was he gonna spank me all night? And was he implying he'll hit me harder? He was right, though. My tolerance for pain was high, and I was reacting more to escape the humiliation of being spanked than the pain of it, but - _so what?_ It still hurt! My butt stung, the sensation unfamiliar and acutely uncomfortable. No matter what some people thought, I wasn't a masochist. Even though I could handle it better than most people, I didn't enjoy pain!

I could probably have kept pretty quiet throughout what Gil had dished out already - if I had wanted to impress, perhaps - but in this situation I just wanted to be left alone! He had no right to be hurting me, and I had every right to be hollering at him. But that apparently hadn't done me any good... so, new plan.

Maybe if I changed my tone, pleaded more solemnly and tearfully, faked whatever remorse he seemed intent on beating out of me. I wasn't sorry at all about the Chloroform, but I could certainly act like it.

Gil had always had a soft spot for my puppy eyes, I knew. It never worked on Jackie, but Gil... Well, I could give him my saddest, sorriest puppy eyes ever! And I could lie, apologize - wait, _NO!_ Then he'd believe that this spanking actually worked on me!

And if Gil considered this a successful experiment in corporal punishment, he might decide for it to be totally acceptable to spank me _again._ For other things I did that he didn't approve of... which I could admit was a growing list.

Yikes, I better not encourage _that_ line of thought. I had to make Gil regret everything about this. _He_ should be the one apologizing to _me!_ I shouldn't have to bother saying anything... and maybe that was the new plan? If I didn't react at all, if I could show Gil that I was too good at handling pain for his application of it to have any effect on me, then he'd have no reason to continue, would he?

So, when I felt Gil exert more force against the backs of my legs and saw him raise his free hand again, I prepared to shut up. He renewed his onslaught, covering my butt in sharp and steady strikes, and I just focused on breathing through it. It went pretty well until the slaps sped up, more forceful than before, and I bit my lip against the gasps fighting to escape. I shut my eyes and began some meditation exercises, planning to disassociate from it all... but then Gil's next words demanded all of my attention.

"I think it's time we get these sweats down. Let's see if I can't get through to you over your underwear..." l felt fingers seep under the waistband of my sweats and I abandoned my silence in an instance of pure panic.

"No, _don't!_ I'm not wearing any!"

"Huh?" Gil's left hand stilled and I struggled with the simple explanation.

"I, uh... I'm not wearing any underwear." I stared straight ahead at the ceiling, not wanting to see Gil's expression, but I could still hear the surprised amusement in his voice.

"Oh, commandooo!"

My face was boiling. I wanted the mattress to swallow me up!

"Okay, okay, I really don't care if you're embarrassed. Even if I did see your ass... you don't have anything I don't have."

God, just _kill_ me.

Gil went on, "These sweats have got to go, but I wasn't planning on spanking you bare. Whether or not that remains the case will depend on your cooperation, of course. So, here's what needs to happen if you don't wanna be mooning me tonight. Listen carefully... Are you listening?"

I groaned, "How can I _not_ be?"

"Can never be sure with you, kid... Well, I'm gonna uncuff you and let you out of your bed. You'll go to wherever you keep your clothes, grab a pair of underwear and change into 'em. Then get back over here for the rest of your punishment. No trouble. Capiche?"

I just smacked the back of my head against my pillow, huffing out a long sigh.

"Hey, I could easily change you into them myself with you laying like this." He teased and pulled at my sweats, stretching the elastic away from my skin.

"Stop, fine!" I whined, "I'll do it!"

"And what exactly will you do? You don't have a great track record with following orders, so I'd like you to repeat my instructions."

I couldn't deny his point so I held back my exasperation and complied, saying, "After you release me, I'm going to change into my underwear and then come back."

"Come back for what?"

 _Ugh..._ "The rest of my punishment," I gritted out.

Gil gave my butt a light pat before letting my legs flop back down to the mattress. Then he said, "Good boy, Malcolm," and moved to undo my cuffs. This praise left me feeling an odd mix of emotions. Demeaned, of course, but part of me sort of liked it, being called a good boy _..._ Maybe it was because I didn't mind Gil calling me "kid". Any father issues that might be involved weren't worth digging into right now.

It had also been a really long time since Gil had called me by my first name. I changed my surname to Bright before college and had asked him refer to me as such, to help me get used to responding to it. I never asked him to stop, but he had switched back to Malcolm just now. Why? Well, if I were to deduce the reason, treating me like a child could've brought forth his memories of me when I was younger, when I was just Malcolm to him - Malcolm, the boy who saved his life.

"Hey, Bright... Bright?" I was lost in my thoughts and didn't realize Gil was talking to me until he said, again, "Malcolm!"

"Huh? Oh..." I noticed my restraints were off and then slowly sat up, squirming a bit at the pressure of sitting. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at the door.

Gil was back on his feet and side-stepped to block my view. "Nuh-uh! Don't even _think_ about making an escape. I'll warn you just once. You try to run away, and I'll tan your bare ass with my belt!"

I scowled up at Gil, wanting to claim that I was probably faster than him (despite his longer legs), and also curse him for being so cruel... but then I got a look at the piece of leather around his waist and decided not to risk it. Wouldn't that feel like a whip? I cringed at the thought of it striping my poor naked butt. I looked away with a pout.

"I promise I won't. I'll just get my underwear on, okay?"

I put my bare feet on the cool floor and stood with my hands up to placate. Then Gil's hand reached out to gently take a hold of my right wrist as he inspected my bandaged palm. "How bad is it under there? You never told me what you did..."

I considered telling him that my hand felt awful, no thanks to his rough treatment of me, but the idea of lying about an injury to make him feel bad really didn't sit well. Also, I didn't want this conversation to lead to how I'd broken a glass in my hand while having a mental breakdown with my therapist. So I replied pretty truthfully, "Just some cuts from a glass I broke by accident, silly me. They're pretty much healed so don't worry about it. The scabs aren't hurting."

Gil looked at me with a deepened crease between his brows and said, "Well, you tell me if starts hurting, okay?"

 _What about my butt!_ I was grateful that he wasn't prodding for more details, though, so all I said was, "I will."

He let me go and I padded over to my tall chest of drawers. Second one from the top stored my underwear - which, yeah, I didn't always bother wearing to bed (so _sue_ me). I opened it to a collection of cotton briefs - all white, black or grey. I had taken to this style when I started to wear suits out of Quantico. They looked and fitted better under my tailored pants, but I was _sure_ I had saved a couple pairs of boxers. I dug desperately for one. Boxers would cover more skin, and the material was looser, thicker!

"You need help picking something out, kid?" _Geez,_ give me a break, Gil...

I finally spotted some colour and quickly grabbed at the material, bundling it up in one hand while slamming my drawer shut with the other. Then I turned around to see Gil with his arms crossed and I mumbled, "Uh, no, I got it... but, umm, may I use the washroom? Please?"

Gil didn't reply for a moment, perhaps wondering if I was too shy to change in the open or if I just needed to pee. If he offered to shut his eyes, I'd claim the latter. Then, "One sec," he said, and walked over to my bathroom. He switched the light on and peered in... Oh, checking for an escape route? I guess I couldn't blame him. The space was windowless and had small vents. If that hadn't been the case, I couldn't say I wouldn't have tried something, belt threat or no.

"Alright, you got five minutes - _max._ That clear?"

"Yep, crystal!" I slipped past him and added an awkward, "See ya in five", before shutting the door his face. I pressed the lock on the handle as quietly as I could. He hadn't told me to leave it unlocked but I didn't want to bring it to his attention anyway. Then I just stood there, staring at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My face was red, a little sweaty, and my hair was wild. My shirt was wrinkled and had stretched out in some places from all my flailing around. I frowned at the dishevelled state of me.

I didn't need to pee, and I wasn't so shy as to have needed this level of privacy to change. I just thought I'd take the chance to give myself some time alone to sort out my thoughts. Too much was running through my head at what was going on. I was still having trouble accepting the fact that Gil was spanking me. I _hated_ it... but I wasn't supposed to like it, was I?

This was a punishment, and Gil had to be supremely upset to have resorted to something so unconventional. I was used to receiving looks of exasperation or disappointment when he was upset with me. Even more serious incidents just resulted in him lecturing me or storming off to stew a while. Then I'd help solve a case and that seemed to clean my slate well enough. He never got violent!

But I wouldn't exactly call this violent even though he was hitting me. However unusual he was acting, Gil seemed in control of himself and was almost calmly taking me in hand. I knew he was doing this without malice or ill-intent. I was certainly freaked out, but not fearful. Gil didn't scare me... I trusted him and knew, even in this situation, that he just wanted what was best for me. And he'd decided that what I needed (or _deserved,_ rather) was a well-smacked butt.

Speaking of... I yanked down my sweats, grimacing at the friction, and kicked them off. Then I turned around to check out the damage in the mirror. I had to tiptoe to see my entire butt. My normally pale cheeks were now blushing pink, the colour spreading to my upper thighs.

As I gave my rear a good rub, I thought, _did_ I deserve this? Did I go too far, using the Chloroform? Though that wasn't the only thing Gil may be punishing me for... I remembered a little shamefully that I had actually told him to _fuck off!_ I didn't like swearing at others. In my opinion, people only did so when they lacked a strong argument and communication skills. Still, in all fairness, I didn't think the F-word constituted a physical correction! As for the Chloroform - what I did was dangerous, sure, but that was the life of law enforcement! Gil should understand!

Risks had to be taken in order to solve cases (I was a real testament to that) and while the girl in the box wasn't an official case, it should be! It wasn't my fault no one believed me, but I was responsible for solving it. Drugging myself had led me to a clue, my own mother. Although my heart ached at the possibility of her being complicit to my father's murders, I didn't regret getting closer to the truth. And I could find out so much more if Gil would just give me that tape!

Frustration flared up in me at this thought and any sense of myself deserving to be punished went out the window! Or down the toilet, rather. As had been established, there were no windows in my bathroom. The only exit led to Gil and his hand. He had to have been waiting for nearly five minutes now. I should go to him, but I didn't want to!

My butt was safe here. I could barricade myself for as long as necessary for Gil to reconsider his course of action. I could drink from the sink, sleep in the tub, eat the wax of my scented candles. It would be extremely boring without my phone or books, but maybe I'd whittle some soap to keep myself from going insane. Well, more insane than I might be already.

I caught my reflection in the mirror again, naked but for my grey t-shirt. Yeah, I didn't look like a man that was right in the head, that was for sure. I searched around for my boxers which I had tossed to the ground at some point, and - well, _shit.  
_

I picked the boxers up with a sigh. The material was a faded yellow, patterned with a collage of round smiley faces. I frowned at them, remembering that this pair had been a gag gift from a Secret Santa exchange at my college dorm. It had come with a note telling me to "lighten up"! If Gil saw me wearing this, my humiliation would be complete.

I put them on anyway, just wanting to cover up, and the fabric had definitely felt a lot stiffer when it was new. It was worn thin now and I noticed a big hole high up on one cheek... I should have just gone with my briefs.

With another sigh, I sat down on the lid of my toilet, aware that I was out of time. I didn't bother with a farce of flushing, or washing my hands. I waited for Gil to yell at me to come out and prepared to present a good defensive argument. With the door between us, I could probably think better!

But more minutes ticked by and Gil didn't yell, or knock, or make any noise at all. Did he leave? I hadn't heard the door, though. Maybe he'd fallen asleep on my bed. My mattress was pretty comfortable... but he was a horribly loud snorer! I'd hear him!

Then a terrible thought came to mind. Had Gil suffered a medical emergency? A heart attack? He kept pretty fit, but at his age, did it matter? Maybe he had over-exerted himself while spanking me. It wasn't impossible!

"Gil?"

Nothing.

"Gil, c'mon, talk to me!"

Silence.

My heart began pounding... God, was he just lying somewhere _dying_ while I was hiding in my bathroom? That image made me spring into action. I moved quickly, unlocking the door and swinging it open -

\- and Gil was just standing there, right in front of me! Hands on his hips, head tilted, very much alive and looking officially PISSED! He growled, "I warned ya, kid," and stepped toward me. Did I say I wasn't scared of him? Well, right now I was _terrified!_

He grabbed me by the shoulder and began directing me out of the bathroom but I backed right back in, then he just grabbed me around the middle and hoisted me off the floor, carrying me out like an uncooperative toddler. I reacted out of some natural instinct, jaw stretching wide... and then I bit down! I bit Gil! I wasn't sure exactly where. My teeth just chomped down on whatever I could reach. It was definitely flesh, though.

Gil cried out in pain and yelled, "Damn it! You - you little _brat!"_ To my dismay, he didn't let me go. Then, to my confusion, he carried me back into the bathroom. He let me on my feet after shutting the door but then grabbed the back of my shirt like the scruff of a puppy. "Oh _,_ kid, I can't believe you did that... " he muttered while his free hand rummaged in my drawers. I watched in silence, not quite comprehending what I'd done either. I wondered if he was looking some kind of gag, perhaps a bar of soap to stuff my mouth with. At this point I wouldn't put it past him!

But what Gil was apparently hoping to find, and what he pulled out, was a hairbrush. _Oh no... OH NO!_

It was an antique with natural bristles and an oval-shaped back made from wood, heavy and well-polished. My mother had given it to me years ago, saying, _"Well, if you insist on growing your hair out like a hippie..."_ She could never have predicted that it would be used on me the way I knew Gil was planning to use it.

"Gil, please don't..." I began, but he gave me a little shake and spoke over me in dire tones, "No more arguing, no more stalling. We'll make this quick. For _biting_ me, I'm going to paddle you with this hairbrush, right here and now, and then we'll get back to dealing with the rest of your behaviour."

My puppy eyes didn't even have a chance to go into effect before Gil got his left arm around my back and pushed me down, bending me over to stare at the floor tiles. He cinched me tight to his side, under his arm, and I felt his splayed hand press up against my belly, then -

_CRACK! CRACK!_

My whole body jerked and I gasped in shock at the scalding impact of the hairbrush on both of my butt cheeks. It hurt even more than I imagined! My legs both kicked up behind me, but Gil prevented me from falling on my face. After regaining my footing, I scrambled to pull out of his hold, but nothing gave so I quickly put a hand back to cover my burning rear.

"Get your hand out of the way, Malcolm. Or I'll double what you have coming."

"Please, _please_ stop, Gil! I'm sorry!"

"Glad to hear it, but that won't stop me from taking down your boxers for a triple-dose if you don't move your hand away - _right_ _now!"_

I moved my hand away.

"OWWW!" My left butt cheek was immediately smacked again with the hard, unyielding wood.

"AHHH!" My right cheek got the same and I put my hands on my knees, fingernails digging into my skin as I refrained from reaching back.

Gil was really laying it down, and after another two solid wacks my butt felt like it had been set on fire! Whatever pain tolerance I possessed had definitely been met - and by a damn hairbrush! My eyes were watering and a nervous whimper escaped my lips as I tensed and waited for the next blow.

But, none came, and then Gil helped me to stand up straight. He put a hand on my shoulder and I wiped at my eyes before looking up at him in surprise.

"That... that's it?" I had to ask. 

"Yeah, six smacks for biting me... Do you think you need more?" He raised a brow and I quickly shook my head, hair falling into my eyes. I peered between the strands to reply earnestly.

"No, no more, please! That was enough, definitely enough... I - I'm sorry for biting you, Gil, I really am!"

"I bet you are. I don't think you'll bite me again, will you?"

"No!" _Never ever..._

"It was an immature thing to do, wasn't it?"

I glanced down at the hairbrush still in Gil's right hand and spoke clumsily, "No - uh, I mean, YES! It was _very_ immature! I shouldn't have done it and I'm sorry."

"Good. Then that's a lesson learnt, right?"

I nodded vigorously and Gil gave me a smile that soothed my nerves a little, though it didn't distract from my sizzling butt. Then he tossed the hairbrush back into its drawer and shut it to my immense relief.

That relief didn't last for long, though...

"Let's get back to your bed, kid."

~ TBC ~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gil's POV again! Here he tries to get Malcolm to accept the rest of his spanking... Not an easy task! He also has to convince himself to keep at it.

I took hold of Malcolm’s wrist and led him out of the bathroom with just a few mild tugs. He didn’t fight me this time and thank God for that! The kid was definitely not as scrawny as he looked and my twinging back was glad not to heave his weight around again. I was also a little wary of getting near his teeth... Getting bitten hadn’t felt great either.

Of course, I was pretty confident that the hairbrush had done its job to discourage Malcolm from even considering biting me a second time. I glanced at him, saw his kicked pup expression. Nope, not even if I got turned into a giant piece of candy. 

The thought of Malcolm’s everlasting sweet tooth made me picture the smile a simple sucker could still put on his scruffy face. Then I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for having made him look so fearful now. Was I overly harsh with him for defending himself? Maybe I had smacked him too hard with the hairbrush.

When I had rummaged through his bathroom drawer I'd been hoping to find a plastic hairbrush, like I owned, light but stingy. I hadn't expected to pull out what was basically a wooden paddle with bristles. Although I did limit my swing, along with the number of strikes, Malcolm had reacted like I’d been branding his butt! 

I reminded myself that he’d never been spanked before tonight and considered how shocking a first-time addition of such an implement had to be. I couldn’t help thinking, _poor kid..._ but then the voice in my head that sounded like Jackie argued, _he’s a thirty year old man who used his teeth like a toddler!_

Well, couldn’t deny that, but I didn’t think I could ever stop thinking of him as a kid... _my_ kid!

_Then start acting like the father he needs!_

I could envision Jackie’s imploring face as I lectured myself, knowing what I should do. Malcolm already had my love and support (he always would) but it was due time for me to start giving him what he’d been doing pretty good to avoid. Boundaries, firm ones ... and _,_ should he disregard those, _consequences_.

Just as firm.

Jessica had resorted to hitting Malcolm as well, I couldn't help noting, by slapping his face. I disapproved of that particular move though knew it must have been some last ditch effort to get him to see sense... which had backfired, evidently. She had always been a strict parent, making sure her children were presentable and well-mannered, but it seemed like she had lost her son’s respect as he got older. Judging by his current distrust of her, at least. 

I believed Malcolm still respected me – but, at the same time, that he felt free to act disrespectful around me. His attitude on our cases and this evening had made that all too clear. I’d been trying to ignore the issue but I allowed my disappointment and frustration to flow now, fueling me, along with my fear for him if he couldn’t adjust his self-destructive behavior. I had to figure out how to help him do that as soon as possible. His mother hadn't been able to but maybe what he needed right now was a decent father figure.

Plan A would be to finish giving him a thorough spanking.

So, with that settled, I pushed away my guilt for hurting Malcolm. The pain would be temporary but the lesson should last if I do it right... _God, Jackie, I hope I do this right!_

We neared Malcolm's bed but when I spotted the kitchen a bit of sympathy seeped out. I asked him, “You want a quick drink of water? Juice, maybe?” which I instantly regretted when he shot me a petulant glare and shook my hand off.

He balled up his hands at his sides and actually stomped his bare foot on the floor before replying, “What I _want..._ is to go to bed!”

I quirked a brow, kept my voice calm, “Well I said that’s where we’re going.”

“Ugh!” Malcolm groaned in frustration, “You know what I mean, Gil! Jesus _Christ_..."

I brandished my finger at him and scolded, "Hey, watch the tone! Or do you want me to go find a spatula or wooden spoon in these drawers?" 

After a frantic head shake, Malcolm's voice was meek. "No, please, that's not necessary. Listen, _none_ of this is necessary. You - you can go home now, alright? Take - take the chloroform..."

“Nah, kid, we’re finishing this. I guess you’re not thirsty so let’s get right to it,” I reached for his arm but he backed away a few steps. Instead of chasing him, I put my hands on my hips and an edge of warning in my voice, “You remember what I said about running away, don’t you?” 

Malcolm froze like a deer in headlights, wide eyes looking down at the belt I was wearing. He visibly gulped, clearly remembering – _You try to run away and I'll tan your bare ass with my belt!_ – and he stuttered out, “N-no, I wasn’t! I – I’m not!”

“Good,” I said firmly, “then follow me.” I turned and marched to the bed, deciding suddenly to let Malcolm move on his own. After a couple seconds I heard his feet padding on the floor behind me, catching up. I sighed in relief then considered what to do next, having not yet decided how to position him for the rest of his spanking. For sure, I didn’t want to stick him in his restraints again, or have him on his back. Maybe he could bend over the side of the mattress... or foot-board, maybe? 

Then some instinct told me that I should keep him close and use my own strength in place of those sad shackles. Not so he couldn’t run away, not totally. I wanted to be able to hold him and help him take the pain instead of getting him to keep still on his own. So I sat down on the edge of the mattress and planted my feet on the floor, knees apart. I planned to deliver a good old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking, like how I so often got it as a kid. The bed was a good height for it and I hid a smirk, thinking that Malcolm was just short enough to make it work. 

After shutting my eyes briefly and taking a calming breath, I directed a stern look at the young and troubled man in front of me. He stood several feet away, arms crossed, his expression a conflict of emotions. I beckoned him closer with one crook of my finger.

He shook his head and mumbled, “I hate this...” 

“You’re supposed to, kid.” 

“Then it’s wrong!”

I didn’t want to keep arguing with him like this, not with his attitude still brewing. I could remind him about all that _he_ had done wrong – but I would save my breath for when he was more accepting of his punishment, when there was a better chance of me getting through to him.

“You’ve got three seconds to get over here,” I pointed down at the floor between my legs, “or else I’m gonna fetch your hairbrush.” Threatening him so much wasn’t sitting right with me but I needed to speed things along. “Your choice. You want me to just use my hand? Or do you want more of what you got in the bathroom?”

Malcolm cringed, “I don’t want _any_ of -”

“One.”

He gasped, “No, Gil! Why can’t -”

“Two.”

“C’mon, I’m not -”

I braced my hands on my knees, preparing to stand. “Thr...”

“Stop! FINE! I’m _coming..._ ” Malcolm quickly stepped forward but stopped a little further away from me than I had instructed. I didn’t bother commenting, just pinching the front of his shirt and yanking him the rest of the way before tipping him over and across my left knee. He landed with a grunt, chest on the mattress and legs angled to the floor, and he kept squirming around until I wrapped my left arm around his waist, cinching him against my side. He began murmuring to himself, "Oh my God... I can't believe this... ohhh my God..." Other than that, though, he seemed to settle down.

Strangely, this felt right. Compared to how resorted to spanking Malcolm earlier, him fitting over my knee like this felt almost... natural. It had to feel more comfortable for Malcolm, too, though I wouldn't expect him to admit it. I could remember the embarrassment of this position when I thought I was too old for it, but I could also remember the struggle of keeping in position whenever I had to stoop over something instead. 

Malcolm's hips rested over my thigh, propping his butt up, and I considered his yellow boxers. The pattern of smiling faces stared up at me as I frowned down at them. I had thought the kid would own more expensive underwear... This pair was pretty old, though, judging by the faded colours and thinness of the material, and there was even a hole high up on his right cheek. I could see a pink patch of skin through it. 

Maybe he did have some classy designer briefs but hadn’t made the time and effort to do laundry, or send things to get dry-cleaned more expected of a Whitly). That could explain why he'd gone commando, yet another sign he wasn’t taking care of himself. I tsked, then turned my thoughts to whether I should let his ridiculous boxers stay on.

He'd been warned that whether or not he'd go bare would depend on his cooperation with my instructions - but he'd gone and neglected them instead, hadn't he? Also, I was still concerned that I had hit him too hard with the hairbrush. I wouldn't care if a bare ass embarrassed him further, but I _would_ if he was badly bruised... So, resolved, I grabbed the back of his boxers and started to pull them down. 

But Malcolm's hand shot to the waist band and yanked them back up, stretching the material. "Hey, _no_ , HEYYY!" He screeched, "I didn't run away! You said - "

"I _said_ five minutes in the bathroom! You know how long you kept me waiting?"

Malcolm tried to twist around to look at me but I pressed him back down. He spoke against the mattress. "Um, ahh... I didn't have a watch on me, or my phone, so..."

 _"Fourteen_ minutes you were in there! And don't you _dare_ try to tell me you couldn't tell you were out of time... So, even though you didn't leave the place, I’m still gonna count that as trying to escape your punishment. You're lucky I'll keep my belt on, but you're gonna have to take these down..." I tugged at his boxers again.

Malcolm began bucking like a baby deer. He shouted angrily, "No _way,_ Gil!"

I rolled my eyes even while struggling to settle him down. At this rate, we were both gonna get tired out before any good could happen. A compromise came to mind.

“Nine!" I yelled.

“Huh?” Malcolm kept twisting. 

"Nine smacks on your bare ass for making me wait nine extra minutes. You do your best to take them and I’ll pull your boxers back up for the rest... but, keep fighting me, and I’ll tear these right off. Looks like they should be thrown out anyway, to be honest, kid."

Malcolm whined, feet kicking up, “Gil, c'mon! You’re not giving me any good options!” 

I wanted to say, _I could say the same to you!_ I didn't want to fire the kid, which was one option, but I also didn't want him to keep working with me if it would keep leading him down this rabbit hole of dark thoughts and dangerous decisions. Smacking some sense into him was the alternative I was taking a chance on instead. For a moment, I thought I could relate to Malcolm deciding to drug himself. Despite the huge risk, he had thought it would be worth it. What _I_ was doing now might put our relationship at risk, but I truly felt it was worth a shot. I was doing this to help him... and I hoped he knew that.

I decided to make sure.

"You know I'm doing this to help you, right? Or... do you think I'm doing this just to hurt you?

He stopped squirming but held tight to his boxers. Several seconds passed before he replied, in a near whisper, “No, I... I don’t think that...”

I rubbed his back with my left hand, "Then let me help. _Please,_ Malcolm... You know you've been handling things badly. You've been trying to figure out things yourself, but you're suffering for it. You need my help, okay? Let me finish spanking you. It's worth a try, and I know you trust me... so, just... let go..." I moved my hand to gently squeeze the back of his neck.

I could feel Malcolm let out a long sigh, and then he released his boxers and moved his hand away. He folded his arms and hid his head against them, then lay still.

"Thank you," I said, then couldn't help but add, "Good boy..." and I could feel him relax further. I knew it was an odd thing to say to a grown man but Malcolm seemed to appreciate the praise. Poor kid was such a brat, but I knew he wanted to be good. I would try to keep this particular endearment between us, of course. No reason to give the team any more reason to tease him.

Without further ado, I tugged Malcolm's boxers down to his knees. Other than a short huff and twitch of one leg, he remained compliant. I rubbed his back again, to show I was pleased, and quickly looked over his butt for bruises. To my relief, there were only the slightest traces of oval shaped marks, just a little more pink than the rest of his rosey cheeks. He could take a lot more... and he would.

"Here we go," I said, allowing him to brace for it. He tensed when my left hand pressed down on the small of his back. Then I raised my right hand and swiftly brought it down on his left buttock. 

Malcolm hissed. 

I slapped his right cheek.

"Ow, Gil..." he sniffed but didn't move.

His left cheek rippled under my palm again, then his right. I was purposely making these predictable and giving him time to prepare for each strike. I wanted him to succeed in taking these first nine without fighting me. I wasn't going all too soft, though. He'd had enough of a warm-up.

Malcolm let out a yelp when the sixth strike landed and I glanced around, saw his arms outstretched, hands fisting the sheets.

"Hold on a little longer," I encouraged, "you're doing real good."

I didn't expect a reply and I didn't get one. Malcolm yelped more quietly at the next couple strikes. His cheeks were glowing red now, warm to the touch, and I could see his leg muscles straining. 

"Alright, here's nine..." This time I let my hand fall across the middle of both cheeks, harder than before.

"Ah, ahh!" Malcolm exclaimed as his whole body jerked, then he whined out his distress.

It took a minute for him get back to how still he was before, though he was breathing fast. I was rubbing his back again and deciding on something to say before continuing with the spanking, boxers on. 

Malcolm beat me to it...

"Now pull 'em the hell up!" 

~ TBC ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's patience, I know my updates are few and far between. If you're able, please leave a comment. Even just a couple words, or tell me your favourite moment? :) Anyway, I'm really happy that people are enjoying my stories! Thanks for reading! Next chapter, Gil tries AGAIN to adjust Malcolm's attitude. And we'll see what Malcolm thinks about being over his mentor's knee... Will probably be the last chapter!


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